


Ghosttown

by wyvryn



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, God!Philza, M/M, Mild Gore, Multi, Post-Apocalypse, characters not creators, everyone dies, god!dream, god!techno, im ready to break yall. i promise if u read it you wont recover for a good few hours!, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28689774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvryn/pseuds/wyvryn
Summary: A god sees the rapture of his world, and the flames of his loves flicker out.—-In the post-apocalyptic wastelands of the once-great SMP, an ember tries to burn through the ash of the dead.
Relationships: Background Skeppy/Bad, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Past Dream/Technoblade
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	1. PROLOGUE [When it All Falls Down]

White knuckles, dusty wind, and a god. A god once mighty and cruel, brought to his knees before the body of a boy. A cry is ripped from the ancient one, trembling, clutching to the tattered remains of white fabric covering the lifeless chest below him. He weeps, and he weeps, for his lovers flames have flickered to none. And in a rumble and a cry, rapture is brought upon the remains of the earth, and for one final time;

The earth breathes her last, and so does the god. 

It is finished. 

—- 

“As I see it, our final days are upon us.”

The shaky voice echoes across the buildings of L’Manburg, heavied and tipsy. A horned man leans against the podium for support, wheezing and frail. 

“Didn’t think it’d come to this but, well. Here we are.”

The crowd below stays quiet as despairing glances are cast between members. From his place on the ground, a satyr rasps, voice barely audible to the men on the patio above them. 

“W-wait, he isn’t dead yet! We can still-”

He’s cut off by a hand gently gripping his shoulder, a taller boy casting a glance down to him to quiet him. 

The satyr on the stage weakly laughs, devolving into a phlegmy cough that shakes his frame. The winged man behind him rushes to his side, helping to prop the ram back up. The crowd can hear them muttering amongst themselves. 

_ “Q I’m not going to fucking-” “-please Schlatt just listen to me you need-“  _

Schlatt nudges Quackity off of his shoulder, grunting in defiance. “As I was saying-“ he shoots a grim glare to where his spouse now stands, “Tubbo, you’re an optimist,” Schlatt starts. “A real good kid. You’re young, young and bright. But look around you. Do you see what’s happening, kid? Dream up and fucking left us, Techno’s on his deathbed, and I could drop dead on this stage if I really wanted to,” His voice begins to crack as he raises it. He can see tears well up in Tubbo’s eyes all the way down in the crowd. “Not to mention Ni-” Schlatt cuts himself off when he feels Wilbur’s dark eyes bore into his chest at the mention of Niki. “... the Turned. Not to mention the Turned. Tubbo, it’s all gone. It’s gone and it isn’t coming back. Now I recommend you run off with Tommy before things get messy with the adults here. Scram.”

Tubbo sniffs as Tommy helps him up, holding the splint on his brother’s broken leg in place. They limp to the edge of the building, and Tommy looks back. His lips part in hesitation, and he sighs. 

“Tell dad I left, Wil.”

Schlatt sees Wilbur’s knuckles go white against his black skinny jeans, but he remains unmoving, avoiding his brother’s request. 

As the two boys' silhouettes fade over the horizon, Schlatt turns back to his audience. 

“Well, ladies. Uh. Guess we should make it official. Q, cards.”

He holds an arm out, awaiting the folded and crumpled cue cards that Quackity dumps into his hand. He fumbles them, flipping through and bleating to himself. Settling on the first of his speech, the beginning of the end is set to motion. 

“Citizens of L’Manburg. Our world has been ravaged, our friends lost. I’ve tried my best to keep this joke of a government together, but greatness falls, boys, greatness falls. Outside these soon-to-fall obsidian walls lays a land torn apart by the undead and the deformed. It’s over. We’re living in a fuckin’ apocalypse! Again! And we’re not gonna be cheesing this one,” Schlatt grimaces. “So, I hereby denounce our once-great nation, and dissolve these ties. L’Manburg is no more. 

We fight for ourselves now.”


	2. CHAPTER 1 [Fire When the Light Goes Out]

Dream gazes at the carnage below him, bloodstains across wooden paths and crowds around a body. Through the small eyeholes of the wooden mask, Dream is able to make out a fallen figure, clad in red an white. Must be Tommy. Nudging his mask to the side of his face, he grimaces at the sight awaiting him. Tommy's guts are spilled across the pathway, eyes still frozen in shock, cloudy and dull and lifeless. His torso has been ripped apart, barely holding itself together on stray muscle and tendon. Dream could recognize the wound any day, the messy, savage blow to the boy's chest was Enderman caused. 

Tubbo weeps over his brother's body, hunched and curled into the crook of his neck. He clutches Tommy's discarded bandanna to his chest as Punz tries to pry him away, only making him cling to his brother harder. Dream notices Wilbur as well, stood stoically behind Tubbo, lips parsed, staring silently at what was left of his little brother. 

Steadying himself from the sight of the gore, Dream slips behind a brick chimney. Tipping his head back, he uncorks a small bottle, letting the potion slide down his throat. His fingers fade before his eyes, and he's gone as quickly as he arrived. 

\---

The sun crawls across the sky, dry February wind gusting beneath Dream's cloak. Perched upon the crumbling obsidian wall, he digs through the satchel hung over the front of his body. Dream retrieves a clock, watching the hands tick as he settles down, sitting with his legs swung over the side of the obsidian, waiting. He soon hears a shout drift up from the ground below. Two figures have emerged from the thicket. Dream waves from his lookout, pushing himself off the ruins to land in a small pond beneath him. He jogs up to the men, nodding in acknowledgment as he nears them. 

In front of him stand Sapnap and George, weapons at the ready, paranoia fueled diligence keeping them on their feet.

"Well?" Dream questions them. 

Sapnap sighs, near collapsing to the ground and burying his face in his hands, knees drawn to his chest. George places a hand on his friend's shoulder, glancing up at Dream.

"Tommy's dead."

Dream’s mouth twitches behind his mask. 

“I know.”

The air is heavy with tension thick enough to slice. Dream bites his lip under his mask, a question lingering on the tip of his tongue, but he opts to keep it to himself. George notices the hesitation, sighing, flingers sliding from Sapnap’s shoulder to grip Dream’s upper arm. 

“Techno got worse, Dream. It spread last night.”

“Mmhm,” Dream mumbles. A white pain in his head screeches, his god-borne connection with the Blood God whittling down to the very core, on the verge of snapping. The only demi-god rivaled to Dream’s own power was sickly. With Phil gone back to the beyond, the tethered god is the only one left who will see the world cave in. 

Dream shakes George’s hand off his arm, adjusting his mask, calloused fingers gliding over the splinters and chipped paint. 

“Any other skirmishes?” Dream asks. 

Sapnap shakes his head. 

“How’s the outside looking?” He asks back. 

Dream settles himself in the moss beside Sap, gesturing for George to sit with them. As the smallest settles in, Dream fetches a leather bound book from his satchel. Licking his finger, he flips through the pages, landing on his most recent recorded week in the journal. 

“I’ve noticed an uptick in zombies and skeletons lately,” Dream grimaces. “Surrounding outposts and towns are in ruins. The inhabitants have all either fled or. They fled or they were turned.”

He closes the book with a  _ thump _ , dropping it back into the leather bag. Straightening up, Dream brushes off debris clinging to his woollen cloak. As he turns to face his spies, a frigid hand reaches out, clutching his. George is staring up at him, eyes shielded by his shades, but tears still dripping from his jaw. 

“Dream. Please.” 

“What?”

“Run away with us,” Sapnap pleads. “We have Bad and Skeppy already, Wil and Tubbo too, maybe even Puffy- … I… please.”

Dream’s eyebrows knit together, tilting his head to the side. 

“Why would I do that? Why would  _ you  _ do that?”

Dream notices Sap nibbling on the inside of his lip, glancing away from the smiling wooden mask and the man behind it. 

“There’s no food left. Any remaining animals are either dead or infected,” Sapnap says. “But, there may be a supply elsewhere.” He adds. Dream squints, contemplating. 

“One week.” He states. “Give it one week, and then I’ll see.” Dream turns on his heels, frigid breeze flowing under his cape. 

“Stay safe.” 

—-

The clock on Sapnap’s wall seems to never tick fast enough. He paces around the room, staring, waiting. George is perched upon Sap’s bed, legs crossed. Their meeting with Dream is only hours away, the reality of their escape drawing nearer and nearer with every slow-motion movement of the clock's hands. Outside, a bell tolls in signal. The men look at each other in a grim understanding. 

Puffy’s funeral. 

Sapnap holds his hand out to George, hoisting him off the bed. 

“Can we go over the plan once more?” George asks. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sap replies. “We arrive late and leave our armour and bundles hidden outside. Wilbur will slip out to the bathroom and trip the breaker, that way us and the rest of the group can go.” 

“That way we get to say bye to Puffy,” George winces. Sap nods. He kneels down to gather his bundles, popping them into his inventory as George does the same. 

“I don’t think I’m ready, Sapnap.”

“Me neither. Let’s go.” 

—- 

The god sits atop the crumbling ruins of L’Manburg once again. The day is colder than the last, and Dream feels his lips begin to split. This time, he sits in a crevice of the obsidian, hidden from any prying eyes that may not be so friendly. Earlier in his stakeout, he had noticed many of the inhabitants flocking towards the east.  _ So that’s why they’re late _ , he thinks. The sun has nearly disappeared behind the distant mountains, the clear sky a gradient of pink and baby blue. Dream remembers the sight of Phil swooping across the open air, wings outstretched as he’d glide over L’Manburg. When Tommy was young, he’d take him up into the sky on his back, letting his son see the daylight fall into starshine. It feels like centuries ago. 

Dream doesn’t even remember if it could’ve been. 

Jostled out of his thoughts by the sound of hooves hitting the ground and footsteps, Dream leans back into his crevice, cautious as to who the arrivals may be. He sighs in relief as the group nears him, seeing the familiar face of Sapnap leading the group on horseback, George’s face peeking out from where he’s clinging to Sapnap’s jacket. Two other steeds galloped behind them, Bad and Skeppy on one, Wilbur and Tubbo on another. Sap comes to a halt in front of him, his horse rearing and neighing. The man swings himself over the side of the horse, hopping down in front of Dream, who had emerged from his hiding place. 

“What took you so- …why are they here, Sapnap,” Dream seethes. “This was supposed to be a  _ meeting _ .”

“We’re leaving today. Are you coming?” Sap replies. 

Dream holds back the urge to snap back at Sap, but calms himself. “I don’t have my things.” He says. 

Sapnap looks up at George, already going through the sacks of belongings carried by the horse. He settles on a few bundles, throwing them down to Sapnap, who promptly places them in Dream’s arms. 

“I do. We ransacked your shit,” Sap replies. “So are you coming with?” 

Dream takes a deep breath, running through every possibility in his mind. Everyone on the inside would die if he didn’t stay, Dream was the only one strong enough to effectively hold off mobs for the city, seeing as Techno is either becoming zombified or hours away from kicking the bucket. But if he doesn’t go, George and Sap…

He makes his decision. It’s a sacrifice, but he feels the need to go with his… his friends. He doesn’t like the word, it stings on his tongue, bitter and rotten. 

“I’ll go with you,” Dream says, steadily keeping eye (mask?) contact with Sapnap. “We need to get my horse, though.”

“Gotcha,” Sap nods. “You and George go grab her, we’ll wait here. Be quick.” 

Dream waits as George swings himself off the stallion, but tilts his head. 

“I thought… where’s Puffy?” 

“Dead.” 

George puts it bluntly, causing a wince from Tubbo. His head is hung low as he walks past Dream, brushing his cloak to signal him to get going. 

“See you soon, Sap,” George sighs. 

Their pace picks up from a walk to a sprint, and they’re gone. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exposition dump time! These are things that I can’t say in the fic without it sounding unnatural. SBI + Tubbo is a thing, but techno is adopted bc. He’s kind of a demi god that’s been alive for hundreds of years! Phil is the god of the sky as well


	3. CHAPTER 2 [No One Else Around]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream says goodbye to L’Manburg one last time.

Hooves strike frozen earth, ice crystals flying up from behind Dream’s horse. The sun has fully set, sky still purple with dusk. Dream can feel George grip his hoodie, face hovering inches away from his shoulder. He grips the reins harder, lightly cracking them, letting Spirit know to speed up as the scenery becomes familiar. George’s arm unwinds from the taller’s torso to wave at the ever nearing group. The jockeys can see Sapnap’s head turn in the distance, tense face softening as he spots the two men. 

Dream stops with a halt in front of Sapnap, reigns pulled taught, dust flying up from beneath Spirit’s hooves. He flips himself over the side of her snowy white coat, George right behind him. 

Dream strides past Sapnap, gazing at the ragtag group in front of him. Bad sits against the torso of his resting horse, bandaging a wound on Skeppy’s hand. Wilbur is fixing the splint tied to Tubbo’s broken leg, holding his brother’s head close to his chest as he cries. Sapnap places a tentative hand on his friend’s shoulder. 

“Are you ready?”  
  


“Mhm.”

—-

A dry, frigid breeze makes Dream’s hair dance in the wind, mask blocking his face from the freezing hair. He’s leaned forward on the saddle, bouncing up and down with Spirit’s gallop, knuckles white as he grips the leather reins. The night is desolate, quiet, save the groans of zombies and the rattling of skeletons. Passing villages and outposts, the amount of wandering mobs increases, overrunning crumbling settlements. A clear sign of the turned. 

Flanking Dream, Sapnap waves his hand in signal to halt their horses. Whinnies sound up into the night as the group comes to a stop. In front of Dream lies a small village, devoid of population, but thankfully not replaced by mobs. Wilbur hops over the side of his horse, clutching her reins as he leads her forward, Tubbo still sat upon her back. 

“Could you look after Tubbo for a sec?” Wilbur asks. “I’m going to take a peek around to see if I can spot some food.”

Dream simply nods, Sliding off Spirit’s back to take the reigns from the taller man. He leads the two horses to a fencepost, tying their leads taught, watching as Sap and Bad do the same. He sees George catch his eye and begin to run over. 

“Hey, uh, I’m gonna start a fire real quick. Sap’s over finding a house to fit us all and-”

“What?” Dream cuts in, voice worryingly monotone as it tends to be. He sees George hesitate, clenching his jaw. 

“Oh, um… Sapnap and I thought it might be a good idea to all sleep in one house, safer that way,” George mumbles, nervously palming the back of his neck. Dream squints beneath his mask. 

“Ah,” He responds. “I’ll find my own house.”

A silence befalls the two men, interpreted by George as particularly awkward. He stares up at the taller man, lips slightly parted as if he was about to speak. Dream studies his flushed face, noticing his fidgets and fumbles, so oddly reminiscent of something, but ultimately unable to put his finger on it. That déjà vu, the feeling of remembering but forgetting, it softens Dream, sanding down his sharp edges and sending a sort of warmth coursing through his veins. 

“I’ll help you make a fire. Get to it.”  


George’s expression shifts from that of awkward embarrassment to a soft surprise, gulping as he turns to hide the flush across his face. 

“Y-yeah. Sure.” 

—  
  


George’s heart feels as if it’s beating miles a minute, steady pump of blood audible in his ears. Dream, mysterious, cold Dream. Never caring, never emotional, instead monotonous and stoic. But something,  _ something _ , about that flash of emerald George saw through the holes of his mask, that feeling of nostalgia. 

It sends him reeling. 

He studies Dream’s careful movements as he leans the kindling sticks against each other, not even noticing when he hears his name called. 

“- George.”

He’s jolted out of his thoughts, suddenly face to chest with the cloaked man. 

“Flint and steel.”

“R-right,” George mutters, trying to catch a glimpse of those all-too-familiar eyes. The initial rush he felt has faded, his feelings calming back down and flush leaving his face. 

But his eyes, they hover in his mind, staring him down. George wonders what they really look like, colour aside. Were his eyelashes as blonde as his hair? What shape were they?   
  


_ I wonder where I saw them.  _

_ Maybe in another life.  _

—- 

Sleeping bags adorn the floor, wood creaking in the abandoned house as Sapnap shuffles between sleeping bodies, as quiet as possible. The door creaks open to reveal dying embers, flickering against a hunched figure. 

“Tubbo…?”

The boy doesn’t reply.   
  


Sapnap approaches him, going to lean an arm around his shoulder. At the feeling of his touch, Tubbo flinches away, head snapping to look up at Sap. His eyes were puffy and red, tears still streaking his amber cheeks and pooling on his soft jawline. 

“Oh…” Sapnap starts. “Oh, kiddo, I… I’m sorry. It’s dangerous out here.”

“I thought you were supposed to be asleep.”   
  


His voice isn’t icy per se, but it stings like frostbite. His once optimistic personality seems to have died with his brother. Sapnap carefully walks over to the other side of the impromptu bench, sitting himself down in a far enough proximity as to not set Tubbo off again. 

“I heard you crying. Had to check on you.” 

Tubbo looks away at his words, biting his quivering lip.

“What’s up, bud? I never see you like this.”

Tubbo’s eyes shoot to meet Sapnap’s, slight grimace tugging at his mouth. 

“My brother fucking died.” 

Sapnap flinches at the unusually blunt remark, blinking a few times before replying. 

“Anything I can do to help?” 

“Can you get Wilbur?”

“Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> Eyy gimme feedback please! I’ll continue this with longer chapters in the future, but I’d love to see some feedback in the meantime :] hope y’all r ready to deal with my world building bs


End file.
